with 8000 counterclockwise revolutions per minute and all that shit….
It was a cold day. The train was parked amidst some godforsaken jungle. The LTE sign on my notification toggle flickered like a dying candle. A mild morning light came seeping through the web of trees. And in front of me lay amorphous pieces of human turd which the last fellow passenger had probably forgotten to flush. That’s a regular scene in North Indian train toilets, so I did not make a fuss about it. I just peed, saving any possible collision of my stream with the last man’s debris, and then I tried to flush but there was no water, so I slipped out like a mouse.
The sleeping beauty on the side-upper berth had finally woken up. She fished in her fancy handbag and pulled out a fancy brush. It was one of those toothbrushes people with Swiss bank account buy – with counterclockwise 8000 revolutions per minute and all that hyper level shit; the ones so expensive that they don’t even advertise during daily soaps, so my mother has no idea about their existence.
I imagined telling my mother about such toothbrushes and about people owning them.
“We used powders and your Nanny rubbed ashes and sand on her teeth. Now I’m beginning to think we are cave people. “She’d say, and then add that toothbrush to her wish list.
The girl did not have a toothpaste though. Maybe it came with an in-built mint flavour, I thought.
Is there any cap to how rich you can get? I could have all the money in the world and still be poor as fuck. If I get rich enough to buy that kind of toothbrush, I’d rather buy one of Saturn’s moons and drill oil out of it to get even richer.
The girl went towards the wash basin. I was not sure if she could bear all that revolting shit. See, with richness there comes a whiff of intolerance. But she handled it pretty well.
A just-woken-up girl brushing her teeth in a train is not exactly how they show you in movies. I mean they look pretty wrecked up, but it’s kind of cute, nevertheless. Yeah, you won’t like to snog her but you could still make art out of her.
I thought I would, but then I gave up that thought. She was too rich and too far. And I had my own worries. So I turned around like a good boy and walked back to my berth, plugged in the earphones and played Kailash Kher on a loop.
Neighbour, girl and Christopher Nolan. 😑
Exams, guys. 😑
That apart, I think I’ve run out of topics. From love to commode, I’ve touched upon every spectrum of life that seems worthy to be touched upon. Yeah, I haven’t written about crabs, or NASA’s ongoing endeavour to successfully pave the way for intergalactic meme exchanges, or GST, but you wouldn’t really care about those petty stuffs. I really don’t know what to write. At times, I want to write about neanderthals and slavery, but there’s no fun in that.
So let me shower upon you the daily regular monotonous stuffs of my life.
1. My neighbour lost his admit card. Almost.
Well, such things pretty regular when it comes to my neighbour. It is the first day of exam and he thinks, ‘oh well! There’s no reason why one should not have spring roll on the first day of his exam.’ So he goes to this little corner by the park, munches on some nice little spring rolls and while pulling his wallet out, loses the admit card. Two minutes later, all the spring in his life turns autumn brown. And then he darts around like a blind bee, wishing for x-ray vision or something. He is already late for the exam.
A shopkeeper shows him an MP’s secretary’s door, who writes vague orders on his writing pad, that supposedly allowed him to sit through the paper without being harassed by the examiner. Then he races upto the college with the speed of light, thus proving Einstein’s thoery wrong, and makes two rounds of college to find his room. He eventually gets in, and finishes the paper before everyone else. Adrenaline!
Later he finds his admit card posted on Facebook with a lost and found notice, with love reactions and all, and people praying for its safe return.
2. This girl is back with a bang.
She was pretty insignificant in std. 6. I mean they all are ugly little annoying things in std. 6. Look at Doctor, for example, even though she was never ugly – I mean even the ultrasound photos of her foetal form could inspire artists and cause world war 3 – she was pretty annoying. Like, remarkably annoying. And evil. Like, if she had a choice between a lifetime free coupon to Baskin-Robbins and watching us choke to death she would happily quit ice cream.
Anyway, this other girl I was talking about was kind of invisible, despite being my friend’s supposed girlfriend. Flat chest, single pony, plain features. And fast forward 8 years from then, and oh my heavens! I ran into her on instagram and found this short video. No it wasn’t sexual, it was just her expressions, and my pulmonary veins spasmed with the thud of a lifetime. My eyes bulged out with escape velocity and my jaw sank into earth and pine trees grew behind my molars and I was still not in my senses. My neighbour saw it too and he was impressed as well.
I texted my friend that he was the dumbest ass in the multiverse for leaving a beauty like her, to which he replied, “she friendzoned me. ”
O you poor thing!
I told this other friend of mine who was busy ogling his hot neighbour showering naked with lights on and so he didn’t pay attention. Later he told me she has been in a pretty great relationship for the last two years.
3. I watched memento.
Christopher Nolan hands down is the most intelligent movie director of all time. He is so intelligent that when they were launching Cassini, they hid pirated copies of his movies inside, so that if aliens hit upon the vehicle, they do realise we are intelligent species.
So I watched memento and realised how awfully Bollywood had copied the theme from a south Indian copy of the movie. They just made it a romance-revenge drama, where it was the thriller of the century. I was mondblown at the end of the movie, turning and twisting in my bed like a poisoned dog. I googled and tried to understand the theory. It took me a while. Then, the Jio Guy saw the movie and he barged in last morning.
“Barbossa, what the fuck did I just watch!!?”
Fifteen minutes later, we were hunched over the notebook, trying to figure out the ending with the help of diagrams and flowcharts. We did a little research on anterograde amnesia and discussed all the perspectives and possible cases. It was like preparing a thesis. We even watched the movie, this time in a forward order, wondering if Leonard’s version was fabricated.
Another neighbour dropped in and seemed quite impressed with our nerdity. Or maybe he thought we were idiots. Anyway, he congratulated us for making such a deep contribution to the development of nation and exited. We couldn’t reach a concrete conclusion though.